Personable
by Vanya-Deyja
Summary: Yugi Mouto's having a dreadful first night in Paris. Atemu Sennen is looking for a translator for an important meeting. Serendipity intercedes. YY/Y


Hey beautiful readers,

I come bearing a surprise present. I started writing this round Christmas just after _Dualism_ and finally wrapped the whole thing off. It's technically an open ended conclusion so I could come back to it later but for now you have yourselves a one shot!

* * *

_Personable _

Yugi was quickly learning to hate the French. He'd been from Cairo to Auckland but he'd never, in all his travelling, encountered a race of people so intensely sarcastic and unhelpful. He was a bright boy, he knew the statistics, he knew everyone under thirty including the tight lipped blonde cashier at the deli could speak some English at least. He didn't expect them to know Japanese but he had hoped they would meet him halfway especially considering the amount of dishevelled tourists they saw in a year. The French however had no intention of meeting anyone half way in_ anything_.

Yugi suddenly understood why the English had spent the last thousand years at war with them. If he lived next door to the Parisians he probably would've sent a few German mercenaries over for Christmas himself. Arguing with somebody in two different languages was the strangest sensation he'd encountered in a long time. He gestured, he pleaded in his reasonable English, she looked blankly at him, turned up her nose and scoffed something much too fast in French. He groaned, grasped his skull, and repeated himself again, loudly, at her dumb expression. She wore the same bored, unregistered, look of the American fast food servers he'd hoped never to see again but her tone was so rude he didn't even have to understand what she was saying from _how_ she was saying it.

The French were supposed to be romantics and egalitarians if movies and history texts books had taught him anything but frankly he was starting to find the language more grating than swoon inducing.

He just wanted dinner. He wanted something. Right now _Hagen Das _ice cream that was much needed after thirty six hours of travel in a crappy over-pressurised plane cabin with nothing in his stomach but pre-cooked, stale, toast. The ache in his stomach from the scent of the hanging meats, the freshly cooked bread, and the pungent cigarette smoke was only making him all the more irritable.

After his sixth attempt and realizing this woman didn't give a damn if she got his ten euro or not Yugi threw up his hands and dismissed himself from the counter. He stood just outside the little tingling door of the deli, against the wall of the building in the bustling little back street, with his face in his hands as he tried to compose himself. He was hungry, tired, and unbelievably frustrated. He felt that old, familiar, childish ache to just sob a little till the world fell in line. Why had he wanted to see Paris? He should've skipped the whole sordid affair and gone straight onto London with Ryou…

"_Merci_," Yugi jumped a little, as the man nudged his elbow tentatively.

He was gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous, a radiant sort of sun kissed pallor that Yugi hadn't seen so deeply set since leaving Alexandria. The man was considerably older than little, barely out of high school, Yugi but he had the warmed, deeply set, features of a face that could age well enough to put George Clooney to shame. Yugi fluttered a little at the firm smile on his face, seeping into the man's eyes, as the fellow foreigner raised a little tub of chocolate fudge ice cream in his right hand to Yugi's attention.

Yugi laughed lightly, amazed and breathless, thanking him profusely in his much more fluent Arabic as he felt his eyes burn. The man laughed kindly allowing Yugi a moment to dab at his leaking eyes with the heel of his palm.

"You looked like you needed it." The man chuckled passing the frosted tub into Yugi's already chilled digits.

"Thank you so much," Yugi murmured, "it's been a really bad day."

"I can tell," the foreigner sighed sympathetically nodding to the clustered street of clumped Europeans and then back to their distinctly contrasting heritage and colour palates. "Paris is not a kind city to the lonesome."

"I think it's the city of love because only Lovers are doped up enough on endorphins to ignore them." Yugi scoffed weakly.

The man laughed heartily, high cheek bones dancing, eyes sparkling in a fashion that was nearly entrancing to somebody as slouched and exhausted as Yugi.

"You speak Arabic very well," the man commended, "family?"

"Sort of," he shrugged, "thank you though. Do I owe you anything for this?"

"No, no," the man assured him obviously of generous heritage from the ease with which he cast off the question, "it's my good deed for the day, but do tell me; do you speak Japanese as well?"

"Yeah!" Yugi nodded. "I come from outside Tokyo."

"Wonderful," the other grinned, "I thought perhaps you might be Chinese but this is very fortunate. Could I ask you a favour then?"

"Um, sure," he supposed curiously. Yugi had always been a brave, independent, child but he'd never considered himself especially stupid. Still he was willing to hear this stunning creature out after such an open act of kindness on his behalf.

"I have a meeting with some foreign investors tonight but my translator's sick as a dog with food poisoning. Do you think maybe…?" He trailed off hopefully. "There's a free dinner in it and I'll make certain you get a wonderful hotel room for the night. No sex trafficking, no drugs, no mafia or anything you might see on some late night TV channel. You have my word."

The ideas were serious but the sparkle in those eyes suggested a playfulness to Yugi that lessened his caution even further. He found himself laughing lightly and glanced about the street. He didn't have a hotel room yet, he'd been lugging his recently lightened bags from the airport, and the concept of somebody else organising where he lay his head tonight was sorely tempting after the nonsense with the tight blonde woman. His Grandfather had taught him to be fair, to repay his debts, to help others and be kind. This man was…his whole presence sent a ripple of excitement through Yugi, rattling his curious nature, and making him almost dire for a good warm hug he could hide in. He didn't look like an underhanded monster, not that they were ever obvious, but something about his nature was enough to soothe Yugi.

"Sure," he shrugged with the rampant spontaneity that often lured him into trouble, "so long as you provide a spoon for this ice cream. I'm definitely going to need some before any work."

"I'm sure I've got one in my car," the foreigner swore jovially thrusting out his hand, "my apologies for not introducing myself either. My name's Atemu Sennen."

Gods, that sounded delicious… the way his accent lilted over the syllables and the absolutely ancient structure of the name… Yugi died a little inside at that bubbling gooey feeling in his gut.

"I'm Yugi Motou." He mumbled managing at least to slip his hand into the elder's larger grasp as he fumbled over the mundane effort of putting his surname last.

"It is an absolute pleasure to meet you Yugi." Atemu assured with genuine emphasis squeezing the paler palm tenderly as he smiled. "Shall we go spoon hunting?"

"Definitely." Yugi chuckled with a giddy sort of lightness that made him content to his cockles in this uncomfortable city and dreary weather.

* * *

The car in question that Atemu graciously loaded Yugi's bags into was impossibly pristine. Yugi was half convinced the whole thing had been machine dry cleaned by fairies when he settled into the leather seating. It was a Porsche, or a BMW, or a Lexus, or a _something e_xpensive he didn't know the name of and he felt down right embarrassed when Atemu proudly fished a spoon from the cluttered glove box to hand to him.

"I feel like I'm about to get chocolate stains on the Mona Lisa." Yugi chuckled as Atemu started the engine with something of a loving languidness that saw those long tanned digits straying over the console and steering wheel.

"Never fear, I've seen the Mona Lisa," Atemu shrugged, "and it's not that impressive."

"Maybe," he mumbled but fondled the lid of the carton of soft ice cream with Atemu's obvious permission.

"You should see my actual car back home," the man grinned, "it has so many cigarette burns in the upholstery I should be fined for defacing a magnificent machine. I used to smoke like a sailor when I was eighteen."

"What kind of car?" Yugi questioned pointlessly. He was confident he'd still have no idea what the damn thing looked like even after Atemu told him.

"A Chevy Impala," the elder purred in nostalgia, "beautiful."

"Oh!" Yugi surprised himself. "That's that car from that one show, right?"

"Yes," Atemu laughed, apparently he'd heard the same more than once before. "So, how old are you by the way?"

"Eighteen," he answered feeling just a smidgen foolish for all his drooling, "I'm having a gap year."

"You obviously have a sense of adventure then," the other smirked, "several languages under your belt, getting into cars with ice cream totting strangers, doing so all by yourself… I wish I'd been that brave at eighteen. At eighteen I was an idiot who fancied himself rather bad ass."

"I bet," Yugi grinned, "what about you?"

"Twenty eight and pathetically single," Atemu sighed good humouredly, "my brothers practically have grandkids already."

"Overrated."

"Well I try to think so," the man grinned.

* * *

It was a rare, probably once in a lifetime, privilege to leave a half-eaten tub of ice cream in the front seat of such an expensive vehicle. Yugi was sure Ryou, waiting in line for musicals on the West End, would appreciate the magical nature of the whole idea and be viciously jealous he'd missed such a great story to take back to Domino. Yugi had a sense that now he had something to compare to Jou's infamous '_drop bear_' story from Western Australia. Atemu shuffled the car off to a valet with an altogether casual ease of normalcy like he let some kid in a monkey suit park his car for him every day rather than toiling in high rise car parks for a spot.

It occurred to Yugi, suddenly and terrifyingly as Atemu led him through the lobby of the overstuffed Victoria style hotel, that he had no idea what line of work the delicious Arab specialised in or how neat he was supposed to look. Atemu had the slick, charming, flair of an understated suit number but Yugi was still ruffled from the plane flight looking barely brushed and hardly showered.

"Should I change?" Yugi muttered as Atemu pressed up beside him in the iron clad lift. The hotel was massive but grade three Heritage Listed as it was all the features were ancient and the elevator tiny.

"No, no," Atemu assured him in nonchalant Arabic, "you look just fine. No one will mind."

"Should I know anything?" Yugi pressed. He felt as though he was heading off to an exam he hadn't studied for the with class clown at his side. A tight knot of anxiety doing laps round his stomach he confessed: "I've only ever worked in really pathetic retail."

"You play video games? Card games? Table top games? Things like that?"

"Yeah…?"

"Then you'll be fine," Atemu swore again resting his hand gently on Yugi's elbow, "all you have to do is translate. You don't have to understand it. I don't expect that. Thank you, again, by the way."

"No problem." Yugi sighed loosening the pressure of his muscles. "It'll be a great story to share."

"I hope so," the elder chuckled.

The glitzy conference room Atemu shuffled him into was lavishly set up in gold leaf and pastel pink wallpapers of an entirely different century but the furniture was of such a modern stripe it seemed almost violent by contrast. A few deeply sun soaked men sat in their jeans and striped cotton shirts, looking utterly unprofessional, on one side of the broad black table while the other sat empty. They were chatting in fast, sloppy, Arabic slurring and swearing like drunkards till Atemu slipped in behind him and they finally seemed to notice the new arrivals.

The men, who Yugi assumed were fellow members of staff of whatever company Atemu worked for, glanced up at Atemu in acknowledgement but only paid any real attention upon noticing Yugi. One of the tallest, rudest, of the set with dusted pale hair pointed bluntly at the young man and began a fast slur of reasonable French at Atemu. He waved his arms, he raised his voice, Atemu snapped back throwing up his hand and cutting the bickering back as the others too started to join suit. Yugi suddenly felt very young, very small, and utterly unwanted. He couldn't comprehend exactly what was being said but the disastrous looks plastered across firm features spoke volumes.

More than anything he was mildly astounded at how brutish a room full of Arabian men could be. Atemu, and indeed many of the people Yugi knew like the old family friends the Ishtars, had been nothing but polite and charming as most Muslims were in his experience. He'd never seen any of the brawling profanity the Americans made such a fuss about.

Eventually Atemu beat down the debate, holding both hands above his head in a familiar '_halt all ye!_' gesture Yugi's grandfather often employed, gesturing pointedly at his watch. Yugi's spine was brutally tense as Atemu gingerly took his shoulder and ushered him gentlemanly into a warmly padded seat.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes," Atemu waved pushing Yugi's seat closer to the table top in a way he'd only ever seen before in movies, "Akefia is fussy about details. The Americans would call him fanatical," he joked warmly in clear Arabic, "but everything is fine. Please forgive all the shouting Little One it's the sort of inappropriate nonsense I don't normally allow."

"No problem," Yugi murmured pulling together as much of a smile as he could muster up at the still radiantly soothed face.

Atemu took the seat beside him casually shuffling his fellows down a seat or two as though they were cats who'd fallen asleep on his couch. They were so casual Yugi half expected a posse of American skater punks to show up to start the meeting but instead, as was more likely, Atemu warmly greeted a convoy of tightly suited and highly strung Japanese business men.

That sickening wave of exam-esque terror settled over Yugi once again as he attempted to perform the introductions with as much professionalism as he could muster. The Japanese convoy didn't so much as bat an eyelash, amongst the rowdy Arabians Yugi appeared right at home as the sort of fellow Atemu might hire. As Yugi pushed through the initial stage fright a sort of focused calm settled on him till he no longer felt dreadfully out of place. It came with a strange sensation of being invisible. As he spoke for both parties, as best he could, they seemed to forget he was there all together. His input wasn't at all relevant and he found himself doing little more than a lazy act of conversion from one language to another that hardly required much attention at all if he didn't try to keep up with the tangents and implications of what was being said.

They talked games. Yugi picked up words that stuck to his mind: distribution rights, regions, pirating, marketing, stock values, mergers, the Japanese audience, graphic violence, sample groups, critics, turn based, first person… And while this all ran over him he found it increasingly difficult to really catch onto the meaning of what it all fit into. If he tried, himself, to understand what was being argued over he found himself thinking so hard he failed to translate properly and eventually gave up. It was almost surreal.

The meeting lingered on and doing twice as much talking as everyone else Yugi found his voice growing hoarse. He coughed a little but pressed on under Atemu's viciously keen eye. The Arabs whispered to themselves, Yugi found that fascinating too, in a conversation where neither party understood anything but what Yugi was told to pass on they could gossip as much or as rudely as they liked which the pale haired Akefia certainly took advantage of. It was a mild comedy of errors Yugi, as the only one privy to both sides, enjoyed immensely. They spoke nicely enough through him but Akefia was slurring things that would turn his Japanese counterpart pink. While his Japanese counterpart made snide inclinations about Akefia's birth that would probably cause the Arab to throw a hardy punch.

Eventually Atemu made another of his openly expressive gestures, something the Japanese business men did very little off sitting so stiffy, and called the whole affair to a head.

"We'll talk about the release schedule closer to the time. The final solution is inevitably that, for the moment, we'll have to fly blind with contractors. We'll arrange another meeting, get the respective teams working, and call it a night." Atemu elaborated smoothly sinking back into his chair as Yugi tattered away blindly. Then he stood and every one of the Japanese penguins lurched up like mannequins to shake his hand.

The Arabians were a lot slower to their feet. Setting aside their things and easing up to languidly take the digits of their unhappy counterparts. It was an uneasy mixing of cultures Yugi was happy to sit away from. Throughout the entire affair whatever happened, whatever was said, wasn't his fault or his problem. It was weirdly freeing but all the more embarrassing when the head of the Japanese party made to shake his hand and formally thank him for his services.

When the little posse of pale suited business men left the Arabs fell back into their slouches and began bad mouthing the ridiculousness of it all. Even Atemu gave a scoff offering a hand to help Yugi to his feet taking the boy's elbow back into his palm.

"Prissy gits don't understand anything but their fucking turn based in-media-res _bullshit_." Akefia scoffed. "They've fattened that cash cow so far the fucking thing's obese. No one wants another stinking _Final Repeated Delusion_ or whatever that little prick called it."

"Disney sells though in that joint deal of theirs." Another of the company spoke up lazily.

"Fuck Disney," Akefia insisted, "bunch of South White Americans playing happy families. Find me one fucking kid who doesn't want something he's not embarrassed to tell his friends about."

"What sells sells Bakura," Atemu dismissed finally pressing Yugi towards the door, "I'm calling it a night. Treat yourself to dinner guys but I want you _sober_ in the morning. Don't give me that look Akefia. I_ mean_ it."

"Yeah, yeah!" The pale haired man waved impatiently. "Whatever. Night Sennen."

"Night," he sighed to the little chorus of well wishes from his fellows as he slipped with Yugi back into the hallway.

"That was really interesting." Yugi whispered as they maneuverer through the almost labyrinth like structures of the ancient building to the grand staircases down. The whole place had an almost library like atmosphere that made him uncertain to raise his voice.

"I'm glad you weren't bored stiff," Atemu chuckled, "I'll have to ask you to please forgive the…_ vocabulary_of a few of my staff."

"I've heard it all before," Yugi shrugged, "I'm a wild teenager remember?"

"You seem far too classy to have a gutter mouth." The man assured him. "With a face as sweet as yours you certainly shouldn't."

Yugi could manage a laugh, airy and breathless, his cheeks burning as Atemu pulled them from a stair well down a long grand corridor with individually numbered doors. His soft, heavy, digits strayed from Yugi's pointed elbow to his taunt waist as he came to a halt. Fiddling in his pockets for the swipe room key that fell through the console mounted garishly on the door he, perhaps subconsciously, held Yugi a little closer to his hip his dark eyes never wavering from the key card.

Yugi realized, much too late, he was holding his breath from the impact of the touch. Even as Atemu spread open the door and elongated his opposing arm to welcome Yugi into the space before him the younger found it terribly hard to regulate his heartbeat. The room was just as extravagant as the rest of the building and peppered with modern anachronisms. Filled with suitcases and matching suits, laptop cords tangled on the desk, Yugi's own luggage propped up by the door idly. The whole picture was very peculiar.

He didn't own things like this he noted mildly. He was way too young and peppy for these older trappings of a grown, successful, man. It hit him then, properly, that there were ten long years between himself and the frightfully charming Atemu pulling the door shut behind them. He had no reason to suppose, to expect, anything of a no doubt Islamic man but still he felt a little improper being here all of a sudden.

"So…" Yugi breathed weakly.

"When I had the valet park he brought your bags up to my room," Atemu shrugged in response to the invisible question lingering on Yugi's face, "just give me a few moments and I'll have them get you your own. How long are you staying in Paris?"

"Oh no it's okay, I couldn't afford it," he chuckled, "don't worry."

"Consider it payment for all your help." The man supposed.

"No really…" Yugi argued blindly, "don't bother."

"You have to sleep somewhere tonight," Atemu reminded him gently as the silence in the darkened bedroom fell a little heavier over them, "any suggestions you'd prefer?"

Yugi itched at that twisting sensation of anticipation curling round and round his gut as he shifted to face the man creeping close beside him. He hadn't felt this unspoken precipice for a few long months and never so intensely. Atemu's chest was so close to his tense spine Yugi could manage little more than a turn of his head back, and up, over his shoulder to the unyielding expression he met in the foreigner. His lips parted weakly at the implication that perhaps his imagination was merely creating from vapours but Atemu's hands came to settle tightly round his elbows, vice like, as Yugi gave a weak useless sigh through his lips.

The Arab leant his handsome face closer to Yugi's, squeezing his arms, pulling him back into him and hefting him up onto his tiptoes as he dragged the boy's face closer to his. He fell into a kiss that left Yugi utterly devoid of sensible thought, keeping the boy positioned against him as he bore his lips down heartily into the weaker set waiting for him. The idea of the _feast_ assaulted Yugi's over active imagination. The burning pressure with which Atemu kissed him was consuming and hungry like the man might gobble him up. Instead Atemu drew Yugi's full bottom lip between his teeth roughly and drew back only slightly, still squeezing the boy into place, moulded to him.

"I'm sorry," he sighed and chuckled all at once, a kind of hungry satisfaction spreading over the details of his face, "it's been a long time since someone so young and so gorgeous has given me eyes all night."

"I didn't-"

"Yes you did," Atemu whispered pointedly, "and now I can barely help myself."

"I…" Yugi made a sound that was more a heavy, giddy, exhale than a word, totally pliant in the kind of composed, authoritative, and skilled hold he'd never encountered in boys his age.

"Speak now Little One," the man ordered, "or I won't let you leave this room till you've been irrevocably ravished."

Yugi's whole body tightened between terror and inklings of total needy delight at the mere suggestion. He struggled to form a word, let alone a sentence, in response. He shouldn't allow this in any way, shape or form. He didn't know Atemu nearly well enough to put himself into a situation that could go so wrong so easily. He was older, much older, competent in ways Yugi could only hazard a guess towards, his words and his actions diabolical in their nature. He was dangerous and Yugi was vulnerable in several ways but…

"I'll take that as a yes." Atemu informed him coolly his heated hands running with a sort of all knowing, possessive, authority over Yugi's body like he had done so a million times before. His exterior arm glided from one elbow around Yugi's tender waist, his second hooking under the boy's quaking knees to twist and heft him up into his arms as though he were weightless.

Yugi heart throbbed through his veins as all number of scenarios assaulted his weakened form while Atemu held him to his chest. No one knew where he was or who he was with it occurred to him… should he be afraid? Somehow that idea only served to add a level of desperate and raw intensity to the heat filling him up.

Atemu carried him into an almost black space in the barely lit rooms. As he set Yugi back down onto his feet the boy could feel himself shaking. His shoes clicked on tiles and the light from the bedside lamps filtered through the open door to bounce off the massive mirror and keep them just barely visible to each other. The comprehension he was in a bathroom both confused and soothed him. Atemu's hands came, without any permission, to his waist and dragged his shirt up over his head in a manner that expected, demanded, compliance. Yugi let him and once the man tossed the fabric aside his hands barely grazed the newly exposed skin instead grasping Yugi's hips and pivoting him around. He tugged the smaller back into him, Atemu's softly crisp shirt brushing Yugi's bare skin, his steely hands ripping at Yugi's belt buckle as he exhaled hot air into the sensitive bud of an earlobe. Yugi felt himself drag air raggedly into his lungs as Atemu forced the baggy denim down to his ankles. His heart was palpitating.

"Shoes," Atemu ordered briskly into the delicate structures of the curve of his ear, lips brushing skin, his voice filling Yugi's world and driving him to, all too readily, kick off his Connies in submission.

Atemu praised him with a succession of biting little kisses down his nape till, face buried in the hollow of Yugi's neck, the man nipped and sucked the skin brutally. Yugi threw his head back, air caught in his lungs, hardly baring it yet totally loving it relying solely on the unyielding hands on his hips to keep him on his feet. Atemu didn't let his hands stray, every motion he made was precise and poignant and Yugi found himself praying he'd drag his fingers over the naked skin to help the boy feel less exposed. He swallowed, cooing at the way the man bit at him then released him. Atemu drew his face out of the cove of Yugi's neck, letting the boy's panting face fall back forward, to push him further into the darkened bathroom.

Atemu moved Yugi forward till the boy was resting his hands supportively against the tiled walls of the bathroom with the man's hand settled on the small of his back. Atemu moved behind him, out of sight, and Yugi couldn't have made out his face if he tried. In a rush that made him squeal brokenly water came flooding out of the shower jet above soaking them both. Yugi squirmed into the cold as Atemu kept him against the wall. The man held him still as the temperature rose only drawing Yugi back off the tiles into his arms when the boy stopped struggling.

His hand slid up Yugi's navel, under his arm, to force up his chin like a doll and give the other better access to lick and kiss his jaw. Yugi's whole body rocked on his bare feet Atemu's fingers collar like about his neck while his free hand charted inches of Yugi's body in minute detail. The water made the passage of the foreigner's hands slicker, simpler, and the tease of his nails more acute. Atemu mapped every bone in his hips, his palm flattening against Yugi's navel before dragging down his thigh and then back up along the preciously sensitive skin of his inner thigh to where his leg connected to his groin. His nails carded tracks between Yugi's legs and then departed to graze the two hardened buds of his nipples.

Yugi moaned, Atemu's tongue behind his ear making him twitch and choke on the sounds till he no longer had any concept of how loud he was. Atemu hand slipped from his neck, both palms running between the boy's legs, one holding his hips and squeezing his inner thigh while the other stroked at him. Atemu bumped up behind him, grinding into him, the hardened outline of his arousal painfully obvious against Yugi's arse. His own hands struggled pathetically for purchase clasping onto the man's forearms and he whimpered, gasped, moaned. The brush of his skin into the still clothed Atemu, in the dark, under the heavy spray filled the bathroom with mist and made the entire experience vaguely supernatural. Unable to see his face, or feel human skin, Atemu felt more like a thing than a human behind Yugi. He half expected Atemu to devour his heart and he rather enjoyed it.

Atemu's fingers slipped further between his legs, slick, and pressing without ever pushing just teasing. Yugi forced himself up onto his tip toes to shift away from the prodding, arching his hips, Atemu's lips over his cheek, Atemu's hips grinding into him. Everything was burning, stuffy, totally drenched and so, so, dark Yugi felt himself drifting in a strange new place. There was a rumble of something wild, instinctive, being released inside him and while at first it terrified him he soon found himself embracing it entirely. There was an animal purring in his gut that he'd never known and twisting free of Atemu's tightly circled arms he turned up into his chest bringing the two of them face to face. He could just, as his eyes adjusted, make out the golden lit curve of Atemu's jaw. His fingers dug into the soaked business shirt, clinging as a second skin to the man, arching up onto his tiptoes to force his lips properly up into the thin lips.

Atemu growled in the darkness as the water began to run in cool torrents down their spines. The Arab forced a bitterly hot tongue, burning with brutal cinnamon, between Yugi's lips. His arms tangled tighter around the smaller body, heaving Yugi nearly off his feet, groping his bare arse and stroking the backs of his quaking legs. The kiss, between the water running over his face and the pressure with which Atemu held him, pushed all the air out of Yugi till he was kicking back chocking, spluttering, to breathe.

He clutched Atemu's shoulders, dragging himself a little higher from the spray, his chin over the man's shoulder as he caught oxygen. Atemu's hands followed the patterns of the water down his spine and over his curves hefting him higher till he wrapped his legs round the taunt hips of the man. Atemu's mouth was somehow against his, his hands under Yugi's thighs, his hips between the other's legs, his body working Yugi's back into the cold tiled wall of the shower stall. Atemu's hand and Yugi's legs kept them suctioned together, kissing intently, even as the Arab's hands fumbled skilfully for the taps to cease the spray.

Atemu held him high in his arms, Yugi's toes never so much as grazing the carpet, till he had the boy sprawled on the mattress in the next room and mounted with his own body. Yugi's legs splayed of their own accord for the stranger, the drying air making every inch of his body hypersensitive as Atemu ground down into him. His knees bounced, his toes curled, he moaned, he squirmed and the man purred, hissing, into the cove of his ear.

Yugi's fingers scrambled wildly, almost panicked, to rip and tug at Atemu's soaked shirt till he had brutishly exposed smooth bare skin. He arched up, dragging his lips against the sun soaked expanse. He buried his face in Atemu's tender clavicle, licking, grasping to his bare shoulders. Atemu's arms slipped under him, holding him, then releasing him gingerly back into the quickly dampening sheets.

The Arab sat back between his legs his palm keeping Yugi settled on the sheets as the smaller instinctively rose to follow his warmth. He shrugged off the clinging fabric with a mild struggle exposing even greater patches of proud, well-defined, skin. Yugi had never been with anyone as foreign or as magnificent as Atemu. He'd had bad, uncertain, attempts at love making with boys his age, his colour, and his skill in secret in his tiny bedroom in Japan. He'd never dreamt of anything so surreal as a wild rush of sexual passion in one of the finest hotels in Paris with a complete stranger.

Then Atemu was struggling to strip off his pants and Yugi sighed softly, his fingers curling in the sheets, while he watched. Sopping wet pants, probably worth more than the entirety of Yugi's luggage, hit the expensive carpet and a second later Atemu was biting a trail down Yugi's body. He hefted the boy's knee over his shoulder, hooking the other pale leg around his waist and suckled harshly at the skinny thigh. Yugi was lost between pain and total arousal as Atemu's free fingers worked the groves of his opposing hip.

The hand grasping his hip dragged Yugi's body closer to Atemu's the man's firm arousal snug between his curves in his vulnerable position. Yugi clutched the sheets, arching, working his arse into Atemu, who hissed, to urge the man on. Atemu brushed into him nipping at the ticklish skin skirting Yugi's knee as he held it hostage across his shoulder. Yugi hiccupped as slick precum eased the thrust of Atemu's body against his and teased the flexing muscles of his entrance.

The Arab leant forward till Yugi's thigh was crushed between them, rammed up against his chest and navel, his whole body contorted pretzel like and utterly vulnerable. While demonstrating how completely Yugi was at his mercy Atemu fondled wordlessly with the bedside, serene, grasping confidently till he eased back loosening the tension in the boy's trapped form beneath him. He kissed Yugi then, possessive, raw, and dark till the young man felt the stranger working slick, fearless, fingers into him. Yugi's whole body went into making the sound that followed, something brutal, stirred at the nonchalance with which the man defiled him. Atemu hadn't asked for any kind of permission since Yugi's initial faltering. Apparently when Yugi had failed to put up a fight he'd consented to anything and everything the foreigner might pursue in the course of ravishing him.

He knew most of his friends would shriek at him for spreading his legs for a stranger so wilfully but given the circumstances he fathomed he didn't have much of a choice let alone much of a reason to fight back. Atemu forced two squirming fingers into him, twisting, kicking the air out of Yugi and stretching the long unworked passage. He held the smaller boy down as he spread Yugi's leg's with his, pried at him with skilled rough fingers, and something about the control of it, the domination, made Yugi quiver needfully. Frankly he didn't think he could pull away now if he wanted to. He didn't think Atemu would let him out of his arms as lost in the wilderness as the Arab was either.

It was all happening so fast Yugi felt as if he was sinking again under the surface of his own civilized consciousness. He felt himself struggling to hold on to anything but the pumping of Atemu's fingers rubbing along his insides, moaning, as the foreigner dragged them both to a place not totally human. Yugi's hips rocked of their own accord as a third wiry digit weaselled its way, unannounced, inside.

Atemu wasted very little time preparing him, he pulled Yugi up into his chest, and rolled back instead to shuffle the boy down his own body.

"I want you almost unprepared for what's to come," he revealed darkly in a voice Yugi barely recognised, Atemu sounded almost possessed when his voice hit that low husky octave and his eyes ignited. He pushed Yugi down further by his shoulders and continued. "I want you to feel every vein. I want you to prepare my cock to penetrate you in the first thrust with nothing but your beautiful mouth."

There wasn't so much suggestion as there was command and foggy, lips parted, Yugi again gave little struggle in the argument. The most he managed was a needy little moan, shuddering, under Atemu's unwavering focus. The man's fingers, the same slippering digits that had just been preparing Yugi for their owner, carded heavily through his hair a moment later and drew Yugi's head in close to his aching groin without another word.

Yugi's useless mouth, which until that moment had made no effort to say anything intelligent, seemed to work of its own accord with a kind of fever Yugi didn't know he possessed. He wanted what Atemu wanted in that moment, all swept up by hormones, he wanted the roughness of the slack preparation that would bring every sensation in his tense body to total clarity. He wanted to really feel every bare millimetre of Atemu forcing itself between his, reluctantly eager, thighs. So his tongue suddenly became very eloquent in the long hearty strokes it made and his lips very useful spreading themselves in total submission at Atemu's direction to suckle on the stranger. Atemu held him close, he used Yugi, his fingers curled against the boy's scalp drew Yugi up and down his arousal till the boy was half spluttering with every near swallow around the man.

He didn't fight the near suffocation. Somehow that was part of the fun, to be pushed, to be taken… Yugi found his mouth working harder. Atemu was intensely hot just underneath the skin, Yugi could taste it and feel it against his lips, and he found himself swallowing more to better attend Atemu than help himself later. He swallowed, lips pursing, and with a purring groan Atemu bucked in a way that must've been intentional with the motion so that, much to Yugi's surprise, something altogether amazing happened. The delicious slippery head of that arousal slipped clean past Yugi's gag reflex in a way that he only ever read about and in a blind panic Yugi pulled back coughing. He clutched his neck, he spluttered, a late wave of bile half made it up his throat and cooing, hushing, and hissing Atemu pulled him up into his arms as Yugi's eyes watered.

"Sorry," he spluttered, "never-"

"_Shh_," Atemu hissed clasping Yugi's cheek in his still slick palm and fusing their lips together in a way that was entirely fearless, "hush you beautiful boy."

Yugi had wave of giddiness assault him as he attempted to return the kiss with fervour, tangling his arms round Atemu's shoulders, utterly permissive of the hands that glided down his back and pulled his thighs up round Atemu's hips by the crux of the knee.

"Now," the foreigner ordered against his open mouth, "be brave."

_God_, Atemu made it sound like they fighting dragons in some underground crypt and Yugi was utterly enchanted. He felt positively stupid when he nodded, laughing, when Atemu growled, grasping him, and tossed Yugi onto his back till he was once again on top pressing the boy between himself and the mattress.

Yugi was trapped, not the first time that evening, between Atemu and the mattress. The foreigner's steely body was unwavering as Yugi's hands fumbled round his shoulders for some vague sense of security. If he'd attempted it Yugi was aware that he couldn't have escaped from Atemu's hands in the next moment when the Arab wanted to possess him so badly. It was that knowledge, that he couldn't stop him if had tried, which made Yugi strangely responsive when Atemu's knees spread his thighs farther and pressing himself into the boy Atemu took him.

Yugi squirmed as the tip of Atemu's slick, burning, arousal penetrated him. The Arab's hands held him fast, had his hips, had his thighs forced open, and Yugi was manhandled into submission that forced him to moan rapturously. Atemu's hands wrapped round Yugi's thin thighs, grinding down into him languidly as he dragged Yugi's body to meet his thrust.

"Oh! _God!_" Yugi choked, hiccupping into a squeal, as Atemu bottomed out inside him with a gut dropping stretch that rendered him weak and useless.

It was utterly dominating, conquering, Yugi's thighs quaked with it and holding them together Atemu rolled his hips accentuating his presence inside the boy rather than thrusting. Yugi thought he might die.

Yugi couldn't manage syllables.

"_Ah_…"

Apparently Atemu's efforts in forcing Yugi to total submission were not completely realized however. The man cradled Yugi to his chest, arm secure round his waist keeping him utterly submerged in the quivering body and laying back Atemu settled Yugi in his lap quaking like a newborn kitten. Atemu thick, hot, every little motion sent Yugi flexing round him and into ripples of sound.

"Ride me." Atemu ordered and Yugi found himself sighing at the idea.

He was afraid to look the man in eye in the obscured half-light of the low lamps and when he did reluctantly turn his eyes upon him Atemu appeared every bit the demon, sultan, pharaoh… Yugi was compelled to force himself up onto his forearms, the Arab's palms soothing his hips.

"Good," he encouraged, hands firm round Yugi's waist his hips grinding up languidly into the boy to set the pace for their rocking. "Go on."

"Ah…" Why did Atemu have to open his mouth? It was cruelly arousing but Yugi had little choice in taking him or his orders so he rocked on his knees.

His body felt stripped of its skin, exposed, and he seemed barely to belong to himself as he found purchase in his knees, head back, to make his motions deeper. Atemu was possessing, utterly, and Yugi was lost in it. He was fresh, overcome, with pleasure in a way that burnt. Phoenixes, rebirth, baptisms of fire and cult rituals of initiation all assaulted his overwrought imagination in a way that only drove him further to desperation. He felt as if he'd fused with some dark god, unable to stop, unable to will his body to comply with his instruction or to cease unless given permission to do so from Atemu who ground up into him as he slipped down his arousal.

"_Oh_," Yugi shook, he was crying.

"Easy," Atemu purred, pulling Yugi down into his chest, holding him. Yugi sobbed for whatever timeless reason he couldn't fathom but the foreigner appeared to understand and so long as Yugi was in his hands he was convinced he would somehow be safe against the tide.

"Don't stop," he begged, spluttering as the Arab cradled his head in one dark hand. His thighs were aching with heat, slick, he couldn't stop now. "_Please._"

"Shh," the Arab hushed, twisting Yugi underneath his warm body held fast to him.

The man's languid thrust, a long stroke of his hips, was consuming. Yugi tangled up against him like a terrified child, tears thick and syrupy. Atemu took him slow which was somehow all the more vulnerable. There was the suggestion that Atemu could have him however he wanted, for as long as he wanted, in any way he wanted Yugi's body. For however long they remained like this Yugi was all his and Atemu penetrated him deeply, slowly, as if he was utterly aware of his complete possession of the young helpless body.

Yugi was broken, it was transformative, metamorphic. Atemu's arms fell away and the Arab settled back to sit between his thighs, rocking into him with fluid gestures of totality. He could feel the man's eyes on him as he cried, moaned, fingers digging into the pillows sprawled in ruin by his head as he arched his back. Atemu surveyed him and all over again Yugi saw Kings, Harems, felt more possession to the man and it was as if he was inspecting his property, his kingdom, stripping Yugi back even further into the fantasy as the man ground deeply into him pulling back till he almost left the boy empty then filling him with knowing intention. Atemu had the right to do so.

"Ah!" Yugi sobbed but wasn't unhappy. To the contrary Yugi was euphoric. This was all _so_ good. He must've been losing his mind.

He'd never… not like this… not during sex…

"It's alright Little One," he soothed, hand cradling the boy's cheek to settle collar like round his neck. "I've got you. I'm here. Everything's fine."

"_Oh_…" Yugi purred and the Arab didn't ever stop plundering him. If anything his words accentuated the claim of his hips into the boy underneath him and brought tendons of burning desire between Yugi's pried open thighs.

"I know," Atemu whispered reassuringly, "I know. You need a true man."

Yugi fell to sobbing again. It was perfectly comforting somehow. Just what he needed, just what he wanted, so many parts of him were being stroked all at once he was going to crumble.

His hands fumbled over Atemu's forearm begging the Egyptian to hold him and Yugi swooned when with warm limbs the foreigner wrapped him up in his grasp still working the boy's body into submission with his own.

"Ah! _Ah!_"

Atemu purred into his ear, kissing Yugi's cheek bone as they moaned. Yugi's head fell back, arching, legs bent at the knee shaking uncontrollably in pleasure when spluttering into drawn out hiccups he came.

The Arab moaned rapturously, thrusting passionately but smoothly, letting go and Yugi shivered through the flexing spasms of pleasure when the man used his contorting muscles to milk his seed into the boy.

Yugi's throat was dry, his body cold and aching from being over worked so ravenously. His eyes stung, his nose clogged from crying so harshly, and his knees were stiff as he lay his legs back down in the immediate panting silence that followed. He knew, vaguely, that he should've used protection but the very idea found itself sacrilegious to him especially when Atemu sighed, hips rolling languidly, and ever nerve turned gooey with intense satisfaction at the slick heat of the man still raw inside him.

Atemu very carefully shuffled up, drawing himself out of Yugi in a way that to the boy's over sensitive body was heavenly. Relief and pleasure mingled and the very idea that he could feel the man's climax inside him was…lord…

Atemu lay gently beside him, drawing up the quilt to Yugi's chin affectionately, and brought the boy into his arms to rest his head on the dark chest as he sunk back to reality.

Well he had come through with his promise. Yugi had never been ravaged. Not like that. As a matter of fact everything Yugi had ever done with his body felt cruelly inexperienced as a bad approximation of this.

"Better?" Atemu whispered, fingers stroking through his hair and down his back as the Arab peppered his tingling brow with tender kisses.

"_Amazing_." Yugi sighed awed to exhaustion.

"Sleep," he urged chuckling, "you're most welcome here angel."

"Thank you," Yugi muffled dazed.

"Never fret, it's my pleasure," Atemu answered the perfect gentleman once more as the tribal god dissipated into smoke and he all but rocked Yugi to sleep in his arms.

* * *

Yugi felt very small, young and pale in those arms when he woke in the morning. The sunlight of Europe was always misted, alien, and it hazed through the blinds revealing the most beautifully ornate room he had ever had the privilege of intruding upon. Atemu squeezed him close under the thick plush weight of the quick which fluffed about Yugi's lips drawing the boy's back into his chest.

He was so weak from exertion he couldn't imagine all the tourist fodder he'd expected to open onto this morning.

"Hello," Atemu chuckled; kissing his cheeks as groaning Yugi yawned twisting his face into his palm. The Arab turned him in his arms hands stroking over wrought muscles strained from effort.

"Hi," Yugi croaked and in the stark light of day knew he should've been more embarrassed but Atemu was so gently sweet with his adoration.

"Did we sleep well?"

"This bed is incredible." He praised as Atemu fondled his shoulder in one hand.

"I fear we might've made the mattress a bit sodden," the man joked, that playfulness returned to his mellow demeanour. "I wasn't too rough with you was I now little one?"

"No," he cooed, it was so difficult not to swoon under such warm conditions.

"Good, I apologise if I scared you, I got a little carried away last night." Atemu sighed boyishly. "You… well, let's just say I went a little crazy for you."

"It was…" Yugi coloured acutely. "_Perfect_. I've never had anyone do anything that intense to me."

"I've never known myself to be so extreme either actually." He laughed. "You brought out of me exactly what you needed it seems."

"Are…" Yugi felt himself sink down into the arms, face buried into Atemu's clavicle. "Are you back to your senses now?"

"No. _I want you_." Atemu swore passionately, reassuringly, into his delicate exposed earlobe. "I want you again. I want to take you all over again and I don't think I want to stop."

Yugi's confidence swelled, soothed, and he dug his arms round the man pressing tight to him. He was desperate for that desire Atemu had inspired, poured into him, that hunger the charming man had felt for him. He liked being wanted by someone so desirable.

"May I?" the man whispered to him.

"I'm hungry," he quirked embarrassedly.

Atemu laughed boisterously.

"Then we shall have room service." He chuckled.

* * *

1. Atemu says _'Merci_' here as part of his introduction to Yugi. Did that for a few reasons: when I was in Paris it was sort of a vague thank you/excuse me kind of phrase, especially if you didn't know what language the other person spoke, so as Atemu doesn't assume Yugi speaks an Arabic he tries to meet him halfway with his own reasonably terrible French.

2. Yep I made a Square Enix reference or two. See if you can pick them up~

3. It's my understanding that you don't even try to drink in a Muslim country without being very careful. Akefia is taking advantage of the fact he can get away with it in Paris.

4. There really are almost no elevators in Paris. They missed out on a lot of the WW2 bombings (which destroyed 1 of every 3 London buildings) so most of their buildings are original grade three heritage listed and to put in an elevator would be massively destructive. So if you go to Paris be prepared to deal with stairs.

5. Yeah the French are kind of douche bags. Maybe it's just because I went off season when all the Parisians are actually in Paris (rather than off avoiding the tourists) but they're assholes. Paris, France, is beautiful in every way and every aspect but the people are kind of a-wads. Was just my opinion but even then it's a rather playful one on my part. No intention to seriously offend.

6. As for the smut… we're going back to something I know a little bit about from experience: BDSM. There's a concept there of taking your sub to a special sort of zone where they just feel…_great_ being submissive but it generally requires some very careful, considerate, aftercare because (trust you me) it's a lot to come down from.

Anyway guys! That was my surprise present to you all. Hope you thoroughly enjoyed this pointless, smutty, mess of a ficlet.


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